To Grow, To Change
by i love alex
Summary: She doesn't tell anyone it's her birthday


A/N: I had to write something after that promo, even if it turned out to be rather depressing (hello angst warning). I tried to make it follow canon as much as I possibly could in terms of the promo and the on set pictures we've been getting but I left out one or two scenes for the purpose of the story. Enjoy!

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><p>She doesn't tell anyone it's her birthday; it seems to creep up on her out of nowhere and she's too tired lately to really face things she's afraid to accept head on.<p>

"What do you wanna do?" Jeremy asks one morning as they sit across from one another eating breakfast; Elena's pushing her cereal around in her bowl, her eyes on the table and it takes her a second to realize that her brother was talking to her.

"What? Um…nothing, I don't really wanna do anything, maybe something small? Here, just us and maybe Caroline and Bonnie?" Elena mumbles off as she stands and walks over to the sink, holding her untouched bowl. She washes it out, rests it on the dry rack and turns back around, leaning against the counter.

She watches her brother's back for a moment, the steady rise and fall of it as he breathed, in and out. Their relationship as it was right now had never been better and she often found herself wanting to only be around him; he calmed her in a way nobody else really could lately.

Not anymore. Not since _he_ left.

Elena swallows over the lump in her throat and shakes her head out a little, feeling the familiar sting of tears in her eyes; her hands go to her neck, wringing out the knots. She doesn't want to do anything for her birthday, she'd sleep all day if she could but knows that her friends won't let her; her family…her _brother _certainly wouldn't let her.

She's secretly grateful for that. For him keeping her centered in some form of normalcy. Life.

"A couple friends here sounds great." He says and she hasn't noticed him stand from the table or walk over to where she was but he's suddenly there, holding her hand and the tears in her eyes are now on her cheeks, melting so quickly into her skin, she pretends they're not even there.

"Thank you." She whispers and Jeremy squeezes her hand again, pretending too.

* * *

><p>It's a blow out. The Salvatore mansion is filled with people, the majority of which Elena didn't even recognize but knew had to be mostly from school. She gets as far as the stair case before people start to notice; they yell out her name over the music and she waves at them, smiling the best she can before disappearing up the landing and into Stefan's bedroom, locking the door behind her.<p>

Somehow her idea of a small and quiet birthday had turned into a loud, big and hugely decorated (she spotted her name banner across the fire place when she came in) birthday party; there were balloons everywhere, people everywhere and she doesn't know how it happened but she thinks somewhere down the line (_Caroline_) somebody had thought her turning 18 needed to be celebrated.

She can't breathe.

She takes a moment to compose herself; shutting her eyes, feeling as her heart thumped a little too hard against the wall of her chest but then she breathes in again and it's almost worse, her throat aching; the smell of this room.

It had been a month since she had been in it, since anyone had and yet, it still smelled exactly the same. Like old books. Like parchment and ink. Like the vinyls on his record player.

Like him.

Elena opens her eyes, brushing her hands across her cheeks roughly, knowing she was making them redder than they already were; she wonders if she could just slip off her dress and take a shower, maybe crawl into the bed she couldn't sleep in because he wasn't there and it didn't feel right, lying there without him.

Stefan had been gone for 3 months while she had cocooned herself, almost hibernating for the winter while everything else was flourishing for the summer.

She was working for something, holding onto something, desperate to find him while everybody else seemed to be giving up. Moving on. Growing up. Her brother had a job at the grill now; Tyler and Caroline had been together for almost 2 months. Bonnie and Jeremy had fallen more in love than Elena could've ever imagined. People were changing while she was waiting. Stagnate and unmoving.

She _can't_ breathe.

There's a loud knock on the door and she knows it's Damon before he even has to call out her name but she flinches anyway, when he does and twirls around, startled, wondering for half a second, if she could ignore it. But she knows Damon, knows that he'd stand there, probably break down the door if she didn't open it; they had somehow found a line between knowing and not, what they needed what they didn't. With Stefan gone.

He loved her more obviously and she more obviously, didn't love him. It was only Stefan. Finding him, saving him, bringing him back. Only.

"Hey." He says as she stands back from the doorway, letting him in and she raises an eyebrow, shutting the door behind him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Damon looks around the room for a moment in a way Elena notices; he ached for his brother just as much as she did. He had just grown better at hiding it, burying it. Protecting himself from it.

She wonders sometimes, if that's better or worse.

"So…some party."

She snorts just because and finds herself walking towards him.

"You know, you could've easily stopped Caroline from going through with it."

Damon takes his hands out of his pockets and gives Elena a look.

"Who said it was Caroline's idea to begin with?"

"It wasn't?" She asks, feigning shock.

"Oh no, it was." Damon smirks and Elena looks away, unintentionally locking her eyes on the picture frame that was standing on the brewer beside her; it's used to the hit by now, her heart, the way it'll clench if somebody mentions his name but it hurts to the point where she stops breathing, seeing his face there. He looked so happy, they both did, together.

Damon's at her back before she can blink again and she knows he would've heard it, the silence of her chest, and the hitch in her breathing.

"Are you okay?" He asks gently and this is unusual for him, for them, to be like this because he's given her a lot more space than she's asked for, considering but it's still there, in his voice, so obviously and she hates how much better it makes her feel.

"I'm fine." She lies and moves towards the long mirror. Damon takes a minute. A long, weighted minute before he walks for her, like she knew he would though hoped he wouldn't and she can see the tears reflected in her eyes and tries to swallow down the lump in her throat.

"I got you something." Damon says quietly and reaches again into his pocket; Elena stills, watching in the mirror as he leant over and pulled out what looked like a silver chain.

"What is it?" She asks a little breathlessly but then his fingers are at her back and she can feel them on her skin between the silver of the necklace as he slips it over her neck and for a moment that doesn't last anymore than a second, she doesn't care what it is.

"I know you said no gifts…" He starts without looking at her and she's staring at it now, the necklaces, she's just staring and staring, "But he would've wanted you to have this back…I'm sorry it's taking so long, I'm sorry he's still missing, I really am sorry but you know, Elena, you think you're getting worse, you think you're getting worse without him here but you're not."

Elena tears her eyes away from her vervain necklace to find that Damon was already watching her and she's reaching her hand up to finger the shell of it, heavier than she remembers against her skin, thinking that he was right. Not better, not worse but okay. She was doing okay, she was.

"Thank you, Damon." She whispers and it's in these in between moments where she's unsure of where he'll stop and if she'll go; her heart beating the way it was supposed to beat, feeling the way it was supposed to feel. It's not better, it's not worse. It's _different._

"You're welcome, Elena." He breathes and steps back, sensing her need for space, for air, for distance.

Elena looks back at the necklace, hearing finally, like it had been blocked before, the rush of sounds from outside, from below her feet; this house was buzzing with movement, with a sense of energy she could almost remember herself feeling once too. She misses that.

"Damon?" She asks and he's at the door but he stops and turns to her.

"Will you walk out with me?"

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><p>Somebody hands her a drink (vodka and coke, she only takes one sip) and she dances a little to some Kanye West song that was currently popular on the radio but she doesn't know all the words like everybody else seems to and it's just another reminder of how removed she is. People were carrying on with their lives even if it felt like the world to her had stayed stilled. She thinks her world has, really. In a way.<p>

"Lena?" Caroline calls from the corridor leading away from the entrance and Elena turns her head, the smile on Caroline's face warm and familiar amongst a sea of people who weren't. She ducks around moving hips and legs and clutches Caroline's hand as she leads them to a quieter part of the house.

"You looked like you needed to be saved."

Elena chuckles, still holding onto her cup. She looks around the guest room Caroline had dragged them into; it's one she hasn't been into before and she wonders for a moment, why Caroline would have chosen it but as she turns back to her friend, noticing the look on her face, full of concern, worry. Hurt. It tells her exactly why. Exactly.

"Elena. Why haven't you returned any of my phone calls?"

Elena goes very still. She doesn't know. She doesn't. If anything, she hadn't really noticed that Caroline had been calling at all.

Suddenly the space of the room feels tighter than she remembers it being when they walked in; her dress is sticking uncomfortably to her skin.

"Because…I…just…."

"You haven't returned any of Bonnie's either, you won't talk to us, you won't pick up the phone, and Jeremy says you're barely eating."

Elena, who had looked away, quickly turns her head, glaring at Caroline; feeling her cheeks burning.

"How would he know, he doesn't watch everything I eat….you need to stop worrying so much about me, all of you. I'm fine, I've just been busy." It sounds even weaker out loud than it did in her head.

Caroline sighs and takes a moment before she speaks, her eyes softening, "You have to admit that you're letting your life pass you by."

"Is that what you guys want me to do? Get on with my life?" Elena starts indignantly, "Stefan is missing, okay? Jenna is dead, the only family I have is Jeremy. I know it might look easy to the rest of you, to just forget and move on but…I love him, Caroline. I love him and he was, _is_ a huge part of my life, the reason for why it started to become…good again, when my parents died, I won't give up on him, I won't."

"I'm not asking you to," Caroline starts gently, reaching her hand to take Elena's, "But you can't keep going like this, Elena, you can't."

Elena feels the weight of her chest, as it caves in a little, feels the tears in her eyes and wants nothing more than to pull herself as far away from Caroline as she can get but she raises her chin a little higher and nods.

Caroline lets her go and moves around her and Elena waits until she hears the door open, suddenly grateful that Caroline knew to close it, to let the tears run down her cheeks.

* * *

><p>She checks herself in the mirror before she heads back out; she doesn't look great but she also doesn't look like she's just been crying for the past 15 minutes.<p>

Damon catches her the second her feet hit the first floor landing; there were too many people in the house for him to only be focusing on her at any given moment but she can tell by his face that he knows she's been crying. She shakes him off and Alaric calls him over from the patio before he has a chance to grab her.

She's about to start walking again, heading for the living room when there's suddenly a loud crash, the sure break of a window. The music stops mid-beat and people begin to look around, look at her as though she would know what to do.

"Where did it happen? Did you see?" A few people begin to trail off in the direction of the noise and Elena's about to move too, looking back out towards the patio to see if Damon would come, knowing he would've heard, when a girl in her history class, Megan, comes towards her holding a phone.

"They want to talk to you." Megan says stoically and Elena takes the landline from her almost in a daze, still thinking about the glass. Not everybody had gone to investigate, some were now more interested in her and the phone call, now that the music had stopped and the chatter inside had lulled.

Elena brings the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" She breathes, bringing her other hand to her forehead to still herself.

"I don't have very long."

She almost drops the phone.

"Don't say my name, okay? Don't say anything, just listen to me."

She's having trouble remembering her own name, her hands are trembling; her heart is trembling; the room suddenly spinning. She's going to fall right over, she is.

"Breathe, Elena." Stefan tells her.

Elena breathes.

"What?" She starts, forgetting that he had told her not to speak. He hushes her and it's muffled, a little static coming through and she can tell, holding herself around it, that he was outside, near a highway maybe; she could hear sounds of cars in the background.

"I can't talk for very long but I wanted…wanted to hear your voice."

His voice breaks and she breaks, her heart breaks but it's enough, she tries to tell herself. It's enough because he's talking and breathing, he's not hurt or anything worse, he's breathing.

It's _enough._

"Please." She finds herself whispering even though she's not sure what she's asking him. The line breaks up again just as he starts to talk and she holds her breath, waits to hear his, waits for it to clear, just waits but it doesn't and the line goes dead.

"Elena?"

Damon bursts into the room through the back door, pushing people aside and Elena can't see him, can't see anything and he manages to catch her before she falls, the phone hitting the ground. A couple people gasp but Alaric who had been close behind, begins to round people up and direct them to the front door as Damon starts to carry Elena up the stairs in the opposite direction.

"Damon…" Elena tries as they round the corner, nearing his bedroom and Damon's grip on her tightens because he knows, he _knows_.

"He's alive." Elena bursts out breathlessly, "He's…he's alive."

She doesn't remember blacking out; she remembers closing her eyes and wanting to.

* * *

><p>It's pitch black in the room when she opens her eyes and it takes her a couple minutes to orientate herself and realize that she was in Stefan's bed still wearing her dress.<p>

Her first instinct is to move. Her second is to stay still. She does a combination of both; reaching over to turn the lamp on, suddenly basking the room suddenly in a soft, warm light.

And for some reason, she doesn't scream. Not at all when she sees him standing there in the corner, his face shadowed, his body still.

For some reason, it slows her heartbeat rather than speed it up. For some reason, she feels like she's solid against the bed rather than feeling like it could swallow her whole.

They just stare at one another for awhile, like they're studying a work of art that had no real obvious meaning to it but held clarity when you took the time to find it. She notices the blood, a little on his arms, his face; it's dried though and she has no idea why that almost relieves her.

"How many?" She finds herself whispering, her lips dry, her mouth dry but knows that he'll hear it and she sits up just as he steps forward.

"I don't know." He tells her and she knows it's a lie, can hear it in his voice without needing to read it in his face; he's always been a terrible liar, the worst with her.

"How many?" She repeats slowly and he's now standing against the bed and she's wondering how impossible it was, that her heart wasn't seeping right out, finding a way to reach his.

Stefan hangs his head; his movements were heavy and it's an effort, she can tell. Just to do that, so exhausted, so broken down he was.

"Andy." He manages, and it's a mixture of a moan, and a bitterness he spits right out, still looking down and she's rolling up, onto her knees and crawling towards him, wondering if touching him would somehow make him disappear.

"Stefan," Elena breathes and watches as he scrunches his face, clenching his teeth but when she lifts her palm up, putting it against his mouth, he seems to unfold, come undone against her.

"Fuck," He sobs and lifts his head as she claws for him, "_Fuck_," He chokes out again, his breathing hitched and unstable and she hushes him gently, the best she can, tears on her cheeks and in her eyes.

She's got blood, all over her hands and it takes her far longer than it probably should to realize that it wasn't his but other peoples.

"We won't tell anyone that you were here, that I saw you." She's whispering to him quickly, when they've both settled and she's just holding his head and she brushes her lips against his forehead and feels him move his head in a nod. They don't really have a choice, she knows but it feels better in a way, to voice it out loud like a plan. Like this crime they're somehow both committing together, is far less dangerous than it really is.

"50." He suddenly admits and lifts his head again, his eyes so dark they're black and she's terrified of him for the first time since he's been here but she hides it, hides her shock and despair because he's killed, _murdered_ 50 innocent people and flicks her eyes between his, not needing to say a word.

She fingers the sides of his face, rubs her thumbs beneath the skin of his eyes and they fade a little, but not all the way and he's still there, he is, she knows. Hopes that he does too.

"I have to leave."

Her knees give way unexpectedly and her butt hits the bed but he goes with her, holding her gently, cushioning her fall and he's kissing her, sharp and quick, like it's not enough but it's all he can possibly manage and she grasps to his wrists, leaving marks.

"I love you." She whispers.

His eyes roll to the back of his head and he comes forward against her, pressing his lips whenever he can reach, against her, her forehead and cheeks, moaning that he loves her. He loves _her_.

"For you." He says and she understands, even when he's slipping out of reach.

She watches him until she can't, when he slips out the window and her lungs feel like they might collapse and she needs to lie against the bed, dizzy and weightless. Her cheeks are wet, her face is wet, her hands are covered in blood but she lies there, for hours, thinking;

_I'm doing this all for you._


End file.
